


the mystic light, the choir of smoke

by burgundians



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - True Blood Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 18:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12564004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burgundians/pseuds/burgundians
Summary: It's been ten years since vampires came out of the coffin and it's a cold night when Second Salem Church member Credence Barebone comes across the vampire Sheriff of New York.





	the mystic light, the choir of smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dailandin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailandin/gifts).



> Written for dailandin's wonderful prompt
> 
>  
> 
> _Prompt: True Blood!AU Credence, a member of the anti-vampire hate group Sons of Salem, unwittingly catches the eye of Percival Graves, the vampire sheriff of Manhattan._
> 
>  
> 
> A few things, I have been going through a tough period when it comes to writing and I had to downsize drastically my original concept and wrote this instead. I hope you can still appreciate and I'm sorry I couldn't do that lovely prompt the justice it deserved.
> 
> For those who haven't seen True Blood (first of all, please do, it's great fun), all you need to know is that in 2006, thanks to the invention of a synthetic blood, vampires admit their existence to the world in what is dubbed the Grand Revelation, or the far more colourful "coming out of the coffin". Vampires try to live in society and have their own authorities, with each State having a Vampire King or Queen and their respective sheriffs. 
> 
> Credence is a mind reader, in reference to the main character Sookie Stackhouse, who isn't entirely human but won't find out what until later.
> 
> And thank you to writingramblr for looking this over for me :)
> 
> [companion playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/durrendons/playlist/5MShUY1QMUZcWh43FtGVaA)

The florescent light in the dairy aisle keeps flickering on and off, a constant buzzing sound thrumming in his ears. 

Chastity had texted him, asked him to stop for milk before heading home.

A couple giggles and he knows what they’re thinking before they open their mouths.

“Hey, are you a vampire?” The girl asks and he can’t suppress the sigh.

It’s hardly the first time he’s heard that and he’s not unaware of the irony. It doesn’t help that the Tru Blood fridge is right next to the milk.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbles, side stepping the couple.

“Wow, can I see your fangs?” The guy asks excitedly before looking behind him and blanching.

There’s someone behind him and he can’t hear a thing. Just his luck, he thinks as the couple scrambles away and hurries out of the door, the ping of the alarm oddly dulled.

Credence takes a deep breath before turning back to the fridge and opening the door. From the corner of his eye he sees the vampire’s fangs retract.

“It’s not the best idea,” it says after a second, jaw flexing, “passing off as a vampire. Some people may take offense.”

His fingers clench on the white plastic of the gallon bottle.

The thick eyebrows, the salt and pepper hair… Credence knows exactly who it is, and he’s more surprised the Sherriff of Manhattan does its own supermarket run than anything else.

The first time he saw it he was twelve years old and standing behind a picket line. It looks exactly the same now, of course it does. He knows all the higher ups’ faces. All part of knowing one’s enemies.

The vampires coming out of the coffin was the best thing that could have happened to Mary Lou.

In a matter of days, she went from street corner nut job to the voice of truth.

The vampire opens his own fridge door and pulls out a six pack of Tru Blood, the synthetic blood looks almost black against its pale hands.

It has very nice hands.

It nods at him as it passes him by. He holds on the fridge door handle, feeling the cold, listening to the buzzing electrical sound. A woman laughs down another aisle and he turns around and heads towards the cashier.

He can still see him when he steps outside and he makes up his mind. It’s cold, it’s late and he’s not sure if he won’t get home to find the front door locked.

He just wants to talk to someone.

“Wait!” He calls, low enough to be unheard by a normal person. But a vampire isn’t a normal person and it turns around, eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry, I was rude back there,” he says, half stilted, feeling awkward now that the burst of courage and curiosity has passed and he’s standing in front of it.

“It’s quite alright,” it says. A smile tugs at its mouth, and the lines at the corner of its eyes crinkle. Credence is unbearably charmed and he half wonders if that’s just something vampires can do.

“Hmm thank you,” he says. He fights the urge to drag his feet back and forth, just to hear the sound of his shoes against the cement, to hear _something_. He can read the thoughts of everybody except those with the ability to snap his neck like a toothpick.

His life really is a cosmic joke.

“Your very welcome,” it said and shifts the case under its arm. It holds out a hand and Credence blinks at it for a moment before reaching out slowly. “My name is Percival Graves.”

The hand is cold but not unpleasant. He always thought it’d be clammy.

“Credence,” he says. It seems rude to call him an it after they’ve been introduced. “It’s nice to meet you.”

It is nice, unexpectedly so. The quiet in his head is wonderful for its rarity. He’s so tired of the constant chattering of the cruel thoughts and the _other_ thoughts. He remembers asking Mary Lou once when he was still too little to know better and he never asked again. Only Chastity knows and that’s how he wants it to stay.

He’s getting locked out for sure now. There’s always the couch in the church.

Percival Graves tilts his head, looking at him curiously. He must have been staring and feels a blush rising to his cheeks.

The vampire clears his throat and he almost looks uncomfortable. Credence has the sudden urge to laugh but bites his tongue.

“It’s very nice meeting you too,” he finally says and Credence nods. He’s going to go on his way now and he feels oddly regretful at the thought. He doesn’t feel like being alone. “I’m sorry, would you mind if I walked with you?”

“What?” Credence asks, eyes widening.

“You see, I have nowhere to go at the moment and would appreciate the company,” the vampire explains calmly.

He wonders if vampires can read minds.

“Just walking?” Credence asks. “In the street?”

“That’s where walking usually takes place, yes,” he says, but Credence thinks he can understand the unspoken request for not being dragged into a dark alley and sucked dry.

“Alright,” Credence says, fully aware this is the single most reckless thing he has ever done in his life. He’s glad he already put the milk in his backpack.

The vampire makes a long, sweeping gesture down the street and he feels a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s a pretty grimy street, utterly nondescript like a thousand others in this neighborhood.

He doesn’t want to think what will happen if anybody in the congregation sees him.

He’s sharply aware that he doesn’t know how to make small talk with anybody much less one of the undead. Nobody really tries to talk with him except his sisters. To the church, neighbors, anybody he comes across he’s just Mary Lou’s strange eldest son, not right in the head, not playing with a full deck, screws loose, he’s heard it all with the festering feeling of pity.

“Are you hungry?” The vampire asks and he freezes. An alarmed look must have crossed his face because the vampire holds out a hand gently.

“I meant, there’s a place open late nearby, if you’d like to join me,” he explains.

“Oh, sorry,” Credence mumbles.

“Quite alright,” he replies.

The place really was nearby, just around the corner, and they walk the rest of the way in silence.

The vampire holds the door for him when they arrive and he steps quickly inside. A few of the tables are occupied but it’s obviously a slow night, hushed and dull.

He feels like he’s doing something he shouldn’t and it’s awfully thrilling.

He slides into a booth and looks away as the vampire takes off his jacket, obviously expensive and well fitted and he picks at the sleeve of his black hoodie. He can’t really see anything but vague shapes due to the condensation on the glass. It’s a cold night, after all and his breathing fogs the glass. He’s sharply aware of the fact that the person sitting across from him, calling over the waitress, doesn’t breathe.

“What are you having?” The vampire asks and he looks at curl of hair escaping the woman’s ponytail.

“Oh, hmm just coffee,” the girl nods, untouched notepad in hand.

“Nothing to eat?” the vampire asks and Credence feels the twisting in his stomach.

“Can I have a…” he looks down at the shiny laminated menu, “turkey sandwich?”

“Sure, white, wheat or rye bread?”

“Rye, thanks.”

“And for you, sir?” She asks and he’s not surprised at the turn her thoughts take.

“Tru Blood, please,” the vampire answers pleasantly and to her credit she doesn’t miss a beat.

“Turkey on rye, coffee, and Tru Blood, coming right up.”

She leaves, the soles of her tennis shoes squeaking on the linoleum as she turns.

“Are you alright?” He hears and he turns away from a shapeless form of red light reflecting on the window.

“I’m fine,” he answers quickly. “Thank you, for…”

“Not a problem,” the vampires says as the waitress silently places the cup of coffee the bottle of Tru Blood on the table. “Forgive if I’m bad at this but I don’t usually entertain…” he lets the sentence hang.

“The living?” Credence asks.

“Yes, exactly,” he answers with a chuckle.

It makes him feel strange, makes him feel things that he knows he shouldn’t. The warmth he feels isn’t right but he feels it all the same.

“Can you eat?” He asks. “I know you don’t but, can you?” 

The vampire leans back on his chair, looking thoughtful.

“I don’t really taste it, so there’s not much point. And my body isn’t prepared to handle normal food,” He explains, with an emphasis on normal.

Credence bites his lip.

“Do you miss it?”

“To be quite honest, it’s been too long to really remember,” he says. “Blood has its own taste, and where it would be disgusting to you, it isn’t to us,” he adds and Credence nods, understanding the logic.

“Has it been that long?” He asks without thinking. The whole night feels unreal and he’s certain he fell asleep over Church paperwork.

“I’m pretty old, yes,” he smiles sardonically.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” Credence says.

“No, not at all,” he brushes it off. “Well, let’s see, adjusting to the modern calendar, I was born in 402 and died in 442, I think.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” the waitress had brought him a glass with his bottle of blood and Credence sees him absently turning the glass in his hand. “It’s a bit dour, living that long but on the upside, historians were thrilled when we came out.”

“I can imagine,” Credence says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Hmm, yes, I never thought we’d be so popular with anybody,” he says as he takes a sip from his glass. In the dim light, it could almost be wine. “I collaborated with a university a few years ago, on a set of Gaelic artifacts, it was fascinating stuff.”

“Did you like it?” He looks wistful and even a little sad.

“It’s always strange, I suppose being reminded of your age is part of it,” he explains.

He can’t help being curious. If Percival Graves really is as old as he says he is, what things he must have seen. In contrast, Credence hasn’t seen much of anything.

“Why did you…” he bites his lip before continuing. “Ask me to walk with you?”

“You seemed like an interesting young man,” the vampire shrugs.

“Do you ask every interesting young man for a walk?”

The vampire smiles and Credence resists the urge to match him.

“Not every single one but I do alright,” he says with a grin, raising the glass to his lips.

This is nice. Is this the first time he’s had a nice time speaking to someone other than his sisters? Probably and it’s a dead person. Beggars can’t be choosers, but he’s really tired of being a beggar.

“I’m not,” he says, sharply aware he’s the first person since Modesty to deem him interesting. He takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Neither am I,” the vampire shrugs and smirks at the doubtful look on his face. “It’s true, my plans for the tonight included binge watching four Gena Rowlands movies.”

“I don’t know who that is,” he hopes it isn’t anything even more sinful than sitting and talking to a vampire at eleven in the evening.

“She was an actress from the sixties, it’s before your time,” he says and Credence nods.

A car speeds past the window, a swirl of yellow and red light on the glass. A chill runs through him and he hunches his shoulders.

He wonders if vampires can feel cold.

“It can be helpful talking to friends about things, or so I’ve heard,” he hears the vampire say. He raises a thick eyebrow when Credence’s eyes snap to him.

“I’m not good at talking to people,” he says.

He doesn’t like knowing what people are thinking because it rarely matches up with what comes out of their mouths. This is nice though, what he imagines a normal conversation to be like.

Giving and taking, and the secrets all locked up tight.

“Well, from my end, I think you’re a perfectly good conversationalist,” the vampire says before taking a sip of blood.

“Thank you,” he says. It’s a lie, but it’s kindly meant.

He munches on his sandwich in silence, insisting on paying for the coffee at the very least, despite the vampire’s insistence that Credence was invited.

“Please,” he’d said firmly.

“Alright,” the vampire had acquiesced.

The bell rings as they step outside and Credence zips up the black hoodie as far as he can, hiding the white shirt collar he knows makes him look like a Bible salesman. It’s not too off the mark, he thinks grimly.

“Can vampires read minds?” The idea comes to him even though he knows it doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t know what he is, doesn’t know what makes him be able to do the things he does but a vampire is an animated corpse and he knows he’s alive. His blood is his own, he can go outside in the sunlight, he can touch silver. He can do all sorts of things living people do, he just doesn’t.

“I’m afraid mind reading isn’t one of our abilities,” the vampire says. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Credence answers, feeling oddly empty.

The silence between them is broken by passing cars and the slap of the soles of their shoes on the wet pavements. The vampire’s makes a clear tapping noise and he glances down to see shiny black leather.

“You know, New York has changed an awful lot since the first time I came here,” the vampire says lightly.

“I imagine,” he probably saw horse drawn carriages instead of cars.

“Yeah, the seventies really were a different time,” he agrees and Credence stops in his tracks as the vampire looks back to smirk at him.

“Are you making fun of me?” Credence asks, baffled.

“Just a little,” the vampire answers when Credence steps up to him. A buzzing sound echoes on the empty street and the vampire closes his eyes and groans.

“No rest for the wicked, I suppose,” he says, pulling a phone out of his great coat’s pocket and brings it up to his eyes, frowning at the screen. He pockets it again and looks at Credence for a long moment.

Credence drags his feet back and forth, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t want the vampire to leave but he obviously has to. There’s a small comfort in the vampire’s obvious reluctance.

“May I?” The vampire finally asks.

May he what? Kill him and drink his blood? Turn him? It’s not like he’s doing anything with his soul at the moment.

You’re a damned idiot, Credence Barebone, he thinks.

Credence nods and feels the blood thrumming in his ears. He wonders if the vampire can at least hear that.

The hand advances slowly towards him, giving him time to draw away, even though he knows he could never move far enough away to be unable to catch him if he so desired. The hand that comes in contact with his skin is shockingly cool and the vampire tips his head down the slightest bit.

Oh, he’s taller than him. He hadn’t noticed but it makes sense, he’s always heard that people were shorter in the past. He’s dimly aware that he’s touching that little scar on his jaw, but the vampire’s face is coming closer and he can count all his lashes if he wanted to.

He half expects pain, blood, death and oblivion. But all the vampire does is kiss the corner of his mouth with cold lips and Credence has to remind himself how to breathe.

“It was lovely walking with you, Credence Barebone,” Percival Graves says, swiping a thumb gently on his jaw. “Don’t be a stranger,” he inclines his head, such an old fashioned gesture and strides away.

He never told him his last name, he realizes as he turns away to head towards the church. He can still catch a few hours of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I love feedback (find me on tumblr @braganzas)


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